Hardass (Bad Bitch)(46)

“No. We try to maintain a professional workpl—”

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” He laughed and slapped his thigh.

I went to the door and slammed it. I was pretty sure no one was still around my end of the office, but still, I didn’t want to risk Caroline’s reputation. “Kennedy! Cut it the fuck out.”

“No, no.” He was still laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s just you’re such a fucking robot sometimes. It’s perfect. Of course she got to you. I should have known the minute she smiled. Sexy, warm, clearly smart if she works for you. You didn’t stand a fucking chance.” He was almost howling.

I didn’t find any of his words so funny, especially not when he was talking about how sexy Caroline was. “Kennedy, I’m warning you.” I stepped toward him.

He fell back against the window and clutched his chest over his heart. “Oh, man, thanks for that. I needed a laugh today, no shit. God, this is going to be all kinds of fun. You, Lincoln, and that little hottie.”

“Her name is Caroline, Kennedy. Caroline Montreat. Call her that. Not hottie, not sexy. Got it?” I stepped closer, my hands fisted. I was being an irrational asshole. Kennedy was just being a regular asshole—par for the course for him.

“Okay, I got it, scrapper. Don’t do a repeat of the Fawn incident on me. I didn’t fuck her out from under you. Relax.”

The thought of Kennedy fucking Caroline made my brain short-circuit for a second, and I took two more menacing steps toward him.

“Whoa. You are serious about her. Sorry, man. I didn’t realize.”

I uncoiled, though the need to pummel him still flickered in the back of my mind. “No.” I shook my head. “I’m just being a dick. To you and her. I made some mistakes. Anyway, long story. But I’m trying to keep it strictly business with her now.”

Kennedy laughed and walked to me. “Good luck with that. I can already”—he put a hand to my forehead—“yep. Looks like you’re coming down with a case of the pussy-whipped. Might be terminal.”

I slapped his hand away and laughed. Idiot.

“That’s better.” He patted me on the shoulder and walked to my door. “Come on. Maybe I can find another hot associate to poach on our way out.”





Chapter Twelve


Caroline

Yvonne jammed her elbow into my ribs and I bumped my drink, the tasty contents splashing onto the bar.

“Sorry about that.” She smiled, her perfect teeth bright white even in the low light.

“No problem.” I rubbed the spot and considered just knocking her the fuck off the barstool. I refrained, barely.

She turned back to Kennedy, chatting him up about his firm. She rested her hand on his forearm as she spoke, staking her claim. When she took a sip of her drink, Kennedy winked at me over the top of her head, as if we were in the wooing game together.

More power to you.

I liked Kennedy. He was funny and handsome, but I would be fooling myself if I thought there was anyone I wanted more than I wanted Wash. He sat on the other side of Kennedy, as far away from me as possible while still maintaining some semblance of being associated with us. So I gulped down my drink and ordered another.

The French Quarter bar was filled with locals and tourists, the mix making for interesting people-watching. A drunk guy stood by the door, greeting everyone who entered, though the bartender made clear the guy didn’t actually work there. A live band was warming up in the back on a stage the size of my closet. Random guitar riffs and snares colored the hum of people talking and drinks being made.

“Hi, welcome to this here bar!” the drunk called.

I looked to my left at the door. A gorgeous woman with auburn hair walked in with a tall, dark-haired stunner behind her. He had a scar running through his eyebrow, giving him a rough feel, but he was well dressed in a business suit.

“Linc!” Kennedy jumped up from his barstool and went to greet them. The men hugged it out as the redhead watched with interest.

“And who is this beauty?”

“This”—Lincoln put his arm around her—“is Evan, my fiancée.”

“Engaged? Shut the fuck up!” Kennedy clapped his hands and yelled, “Barkeep, buy everyone a round on me.”

Lincoln beamed, looking almost boyish as the redhead stared at him with open adoration. They were a striking pair.

All three dodged the greeter drunk and came to where I was at the bar.

Evan shook Wash’s hand. “Good to see you again.”

So they knew each other?

“Same here. I didn’t realize you and Linc . . . well, it doesn’t matter. Congratulations.” Wash’s voice was strained, but his gaze rested on his older brother, not Evan.